


Air of Hope

by Sherwhotreksings



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Crime AU, F/M, Fluff, Kidnapped AU, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-05-30 09:59:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6419293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherwhotreksings/pseuds/Sherwhotreksings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma is a Bounty Hunter in Boston, and the best tracker on the east coast. When a hard to capture serial killer escapes jail, the FBI agent assigned to his case asks Emma to help track him down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This took way too long to get out to you all and I'm super sorry about that. Side note, I owe everything to my beta, accio-ambition! Without her this would just be "an excuse to lose my mind" (guess what it happened anyway) Hopefully you all enjoy this story as much as I do.

Emma flops onto the bed next to Killian, jostling him from sleep with an arm slung over his stomach.

“Emma, love, what time is it?” he groans, not wanting to wake up from what was going to be his lazy Sunday morning sleep.

She leans past him to look at the alarm clock on the bedside table. “A little past seven.”

“Noooo,” he draws out. “Come here.” He motions for her to slip under the covers with him. When she does, he pulls her close, tucking her into his side. “Mmm. You’re warm,” he murmurs.

“You are too.” She nuzzles his neck, enjoying this quiet moment with her best friend. That’s all they are, friends. His annoying, charismatic charm grew on her, but no matter what he says, she only likes him as a friend. She will defend that to the grave, and beyond. Even if it’s not necessarily the entire truth for either of them.

He yawns and stretches, and she can feel his abs tightening under her hand. He’s defined, but not in a ‘I work out at the gym every day’ way - the kind of defined you get from physical labor. With a longing sigh, she recalls the first time she saw him without a shirt, coincidentally the first time she met him.

_A door slammed, waking Emma from sleep. She rolled over, examining the clock beside her. 1:00 a.m. is dimly glowing.  Someone was shouting in a thick English accent. She threw on a robe and trudged over to her door, throwing it open sleepily. She was caught way off guard when she came face to face with a bare chested man with dark hair and slightly ginger scruff. Her mouth dropped open and she closed it quickly, trying to hide her surprise._

_“I apologize, love. I don’t normally stand around in hallways without my shirt.” He shot her a brilliant smile. “Killian Jones, at your service.” He bowed at the waist, with a flourish of his hand, keeping eye contact._

_“Emma Swan,” she said firmly._

_He took her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it._

_“So tell me, Killian Jones, why are you standing, shirtless, outside of my apartment?” She relaxed, leaning on the door frame._

_“Oh, I’m your new neighbor. I just moved in this evening and was moving stuff around when I got locked out.” He fiddled with one of the rings on his right hand._

_“At one in the morning?” She took in his appearance, his tight jeans, and sweaty sheen to his bare skin._

_“Is it really that late? Bloody hell. I’m still on California time. It’s going to take me a bit to get used to Boston time. I’m sorry for waking you up, love.” He turned back to his doorknob, jiggling it._

_“You’re not going to get in. These locks are practically unpickable; that’s why I chose this building. You want to come in and call the landlord? You can stay if you want too. It’s going to take a while for him to get here.” She stepped back, leaving room for him if he wanted to join her in her apartment._

_He eyed her with a raised eyebrow before shrugging and pushing past her. She smiled to herself, shutting the door quietly._

_“Feel free to look around, I’m just going to change out of my pajamas.”_

_“No, don’t. You’re fine the way you are. It seems only fair considering I’m half naked.”_

“What are you thinking about?” he whispers into her ear.

“The first time we met.” She smiles into his neck.

“That _was_ an interesting night.”

“Yeah. Hey, I know why you like this so much.” She presses herself closer to him, worming a leg in between his.

He chuckles. “You’re extra cuddly this morning. Rough night?”

“No more than usual. Just emotionally drained. My mark did some research on me as well. Before I busted him he kept making low blows, hoping it would throw me off.”

He kisses the top of her head, leaving his lips there. She doesn’t normally let herself get this close with anyone she isn’t dating, but years of comforting and pushing boundaries has left them in this cuddly sort of rut.

“Do you have to go into the boatyard today?”

She feels him shake his head.

“Good. I just want to stay right here with you and not move for the rest of the day.”

“Then I apologize for what I’m about to do, love.” He slides out from under her, leaving her curled in his blankets, a sour look on her face. “Hey, you woke me up, you need to face the consequences.”

She squeezes her eyes closed as the light beside the bed clicks on, listening to the soft pads of Killian walking down the hall to the bathroom. A few minutes later she feels him slip back into the bed behind her. His hand snakes around her waist and then she’s being dragged backwards into his warm embrace. She lets out a giggle as her back fits against his chest. He rests his chin on her shoulder, rubbing his scruff on her cheek.

“You feel a little scruffy there.” She reaches up to pat the side of his face, fingers playing with the long stubble.

“There’s no point in shaving right now, as long as it’s not a full grown beard. Boats don’t care whether I’m shaved or not, and I don’t have a girlfriend to impress. No point.”

“I like your stubble, but this feels too long,” she says in the middle of a yawn.

“How much sleep did you get before you came over here?” He brushes her hair back and to the side, tucking it out of the way.

“I…didn’t?” She grins to herself, only slightly ashamed of her all-nighter.

“Emma! You need sleep.” He pokes her side in an attempt to make her move so he can reach over her to turn off the light, breath hot on her face. “You are going to sleep right now, lass.”

She makes a noise of protest and opens her mouth.

“Aye. I’ll stay,” he cuts her off with a sigh.

This is how it normally goes when she stays out all night after going after someone. She falls into his bed and wakes him up, then complains about him getting up to go to the bathroom, or on rare occasions, putting a shirt on. He always makes a fuss about it, but they both know he doesn’t mind it.

She turns and snuggles into his arms, burying her face in his chest, and breathing him in. He smells like weathered wood and spice, something that after knowing him, never fails to comfort and relax her. It’s gotten to the point where, when he went on his trip back to England a few years ago, he got her a small bottle of his cologne as an early Christmas present.

She closes her eyes, focusing on the gentle rise and fall of his chest and the _thud-thud_ of his heartbeat to lull her to sleep. She finds that sleep doesn’t come as easily as usual. All she can think about is what the guy she was tracking said to her last night.

_“Ah well if it isn’t little orphan Swan. Come to haul me back to jail? I don’t see how you’re going to convince me when you couldn’t convince anyone to adopt you.”_

Sure she’s heard it all, but for whatever reason, this guy got to her.

_“Ah, you have a gun. You’re going to blow my brains out now right? You have no right deciding whether I go back to jail when you have a criminal record too! Ha. Turn that gun around and point it at yourself. You’re no better than I am, so you might as well shoot yourself too.”_

She had no intention of shooting him; she only drew her gun because he got violent. She couldn’t shoot anyone.

_“Little orphan Swan thinks she’s so strong. I bet you’ll never find someone who’ll love you-”_

That was when she knocked him out with a single punch.

“You okay?” Killian’s voice brings her back to the present, breaking the silence. “You’re all tense.”

She relaxes slowly; she hadn’t even realized she was. “Yeah I guess. I don’t think I’m going to get any sleep.”

As if on cue his stomach growls. “Well, if that’s the case, I’m going to make us some breakfast.” He looks at her pointedly. “Slash supper.” He slides out from under her and the blankets. “Do you want to pick out a movie?”

She nods, rolling out of bed and wrapping his comforter around herself like a cape, before walking to the main room in the house and sitting down on the couch with the TV remote to pick out a movie. “Ah Netflix, you’re this insomniac’s best friend.”

“Hey! I thought I was your best friend?” Killian grumbles as he returns, setting down two plates of omelettes.

The blanket is so fluffy, he only knows where she’s sitting on the couch because they have sides where they always sit. He holds out a fork in her general direction with one hand, while he digs into his own omelette. A hand emerges from the blanket cloud to take the fork.

“What movie did you choose?” He asks between mouthfuls of food.

“Trading Places.” Her head pops out from in the mass and she starts shoveling food into her mouth, suddenly starving.

“Ah, a classic comedy. Need some cheering up?”

“Mm.” She mumbles incoherently.

They finish their plates in record time and he presses play on the remote.

“I’d pull you over here, but I don’t know where you are.” He pats different parts of the blanket, trying to locate her body, but gives up after a few tries.

She doesn’t respond, but he can feel the blanket pile shifting closer until it’s partially burying him too. He can feel her hand searching for his under it all and once she finds it, snakes her other arm around his stomach, sort of flopping onto him. A smile spreads across his face and he seeks out her back, rubbing slow circles across it.

She falls asleep within minutes.

Emma wakes up groggy, to Killian gently shaking her shoulder.

“Emma, wake up, darling.” He speaks softly into her ear. 

She stretches, letting out a huge yawn. “What time is it?”

“A little past noon. I would’ve let you sleep longer, but my arm fell asleep an hour ago and I don’t want you to throw your sleep schedule off more than it already is.” He chuckles, shaking out his arm after she moves off of it. “Are you ready to talk about what happened now?” He raises an eyebrow.

“I told you, it was just the usual.” She sighs, playing it off as nothing. She hates keeping stuff from him, but he doesn’t need to know how much this guy got to her.

“I know you better than you know yourself, Swan.” He tips his head towards her.

She really doesn’t like how she can’t hide a thing from him. “The guy I was trying to bring in was hassling me, told me I should shoot myself because I was no better than him.”

Killian’s mouth drops open, staring wide-eyed at her

“Obviously I didn’t listen!” She links their fingers together.

He closes his eyes, open mouth twisting into a frown. “But it still made some impact.”

She rolls her eyes. She knows he means well, but there isn’t anything he could say to make what that guy said any less true. She does have a record; she is an orphan; she was some part of why no one ever wanted her. Of course that doesn’t mean she’s going to down a bottle of pills or put a gun to her head. She has to stick around just to prove everyone wrong.

“It isn’t true.” He breaks her train of thought.

She tilts her head to the side.

“You are so much better than the people who you hunt down, and you’ve sure made my life better since I met you.” He squeezes her hand, trying to convey everything he means through his eyes.

“Okay, Shakespeare,” she pats his leg, “I’m going to go change.” She stands up, the blanket falling off her like a shroud. She picks up her phone. “And it looks like I’ll be going back out again. Elsa has another one for me.” She starts walking towards his door.

“What about our day of relaxing?” He follows behind her like a puppy.

“Looks like it’s going to have to be put on hold.” She unlocks her apartment door and enters.

“The one day I don’t have any emergency boat repairs and you have to work.” He pulls the door shut behind them and follows her into her room.

“Hey! I’m changing. Are you trying to sneak a peek or something?” She scolds him, teasing. She doesn’t care really. She’s known him long enough that they have seen each other in bathing suits, and towels after a shower, but nudity has never really been a thing. They’ve never changed in front of each other, but what does that matter? She turns away from him and pulls her shirt over her head, revealing the red bra she’s wearing under it. If he’s going to be in here, he’s going to have to deal with the consequences.

“I’m just trying to make the most of our remaining ten minutes of relaxation,” he says with a smirk.

She turns around, pointing to a shirt sitting on the chair beside him. “If you’re going to be in here you might as well be useful. Can you hand me that one?”

His eyes travel down and over the curve of her breasts, taking in the sight of her, her red bra with the black lace on the bottom, her sculpted abs, how low her jeans sit on her hips.

She’s suddenly self conscious as she catches his eyes. She crosses her arms, blushing just enough for him to notice. Maybe this was a bad idea: sure she wanted to get some sort of reaction, but she thought he would make some sort of innuendo or smirk, not be completely speechless. How could she think this was a good idea?  
  
Her phone buzzes, breaking their trance and she pushes past him, grabbing the shirt herself on the way into her living room, casually throwing it on. “I shouldn’t be gone too long. Elsa says he was spotted a few blocks from downtown. He should be fairly easy to catch. He broke into a liquor store, stole a few bottles, and then broke into a library when he was arrested. He’s harmless.” She pulls on her leather jacket hanging by the door. “If all goes well I should be back by seven at the latest and then we can have a relaxing dinner together.” She winks at him and then steps out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

She shifts her yellow bug into park and surveys the street where her mark was last seen. This isn’t the best part of town, so she tucks her gun into the holster hidden by her jacket. Double checking to make sure the car is locked, she then makes her way into the bar that everyone says is his favorite. She ducks into the shadow, walking around the perimeter of the room until she spots him in a corner booth. She sits down across from him.

“Come here often?” she purrs.

He looks up from his glass of what could be whiskey and smiles.

If she wasn’t about to bring him in, she might’ve gone on a date with him because his smile is downright charming.

“I do, this is my favorite bar. You want something?” He flags down a waitress.

“I’ll have what he’s having.” She smiles sweetly at him as she orders.

“I haven’t seen you around here before.” He runs his finger around the rim of his glass.

“I’ve come in a few times, but never stayed for long. Never found anyone worth...coming...for.” She pushes out her chest and she can see his eyes are drawn straight to her breasts. This is going to be easy.

“I think I’d remember a pretty girl like you here.” He reaches forward, placing a hand on hers.

In response she runs her foot up the side of his leg, letting it rest on the cushion between his legs. His eyes are blown wide and she can see a smirk coming to life on his lips.

Way too easy.

She leans forward, letting her neckline fall. “Do you want to get out of here? My place isn’t too far away,” she whispers into his ear.

“I’d love to,” he growls. He slaps some money down onto the table and they exit via the back door behind them.

“My car is this way,” she giggles. She hates portraying herself as the sexy blonde idiot, but most of her marks go crazy for those types of girls. She yanks on his hand and pulls him towards the street from the alley.

“Just a second.” He stops walking. “You don’t need to be in such a hurry.” He steps up to her, now only a foot away.

Suddenly she has a very very bad feeling.

Something flashes in his eyes and he pushes her up against the wall, hands lightning fast as he rips the gun from her side.

“I know what you’re doing. It’s not going to work. You see, I’ve got your gun here.” His smirk turns into a sneer.

She takes it back: there is nothing charming about this man.

He clicks the safety off.

She curses. He was sorely underestimated by everyone, including her, and now she’s going to pay for it.

“You’re going to let me go, and then tell whoever you work for that you let Will Scarlet get away because you were trying to seduce him instead of being on guard. Or better yet. I’ll shoot you here and everyone wins.” He starts backing towards the street.

She puts her hands up in front of her. “No matter what you do someone will catch you. You might as well let me go because it won’t make a difference.”

“But this is more fun.” He snarls and pulls the trigger with a loud bang, running away.  

She doubles over, gripping her arm. Blood runs down to her wrist and she’s afraid to look at the source. Shakily, she pulls out her phone with her now bloody hand, and presses the call button. Scarlet’s hand had been shaking, so luckily he mostly missed her and just grazed her arm, or shot through the top, she can’t really tell.

“Killi- help-” She gasps into the speaker when she hears him answer. She fights to stay on her feet, but the adrenaline is making her tired, and she slides down the wall to the ground. Someone should’ve found her by now. The gunshot was obvious. She looks down at her hand. Why is her phone on? Oh yeah, she had called Killian. Why did she call Killian? She can’t remember, so she hangs up. Why is her right arm throbbing? She curses loudly, putting pressure on the wound. Taking a few deep breathes she rises to her feet, staggering in her first steps towards her bug. She can get herself to her car. If she can do that, she can get to the hospital. Killian will find her.

He’s always there for her when she needs him, and this time will be no different. She loves that she can count on him that way. He’s the one person who chooses to be in her life continuously.

She fumbles with her keys, slumping into the passenger side as soon as the door is unlocked and open. She yanks off her leather jacket like she’s ripping off a bandaid.

Bullet hole.

She presses her hand back to the heavily bleeding wound, letting her head fall back against the headrest on the seat. How long has it been since she called Killian? Ten minutes? Fifteen? She isn’t sure.

Her phone buzzes in her pocket, but the blood loss is making her dizzy. If she removes her hand to answer the phone, she risks passing out. She closes her eyes, embracing the darkness that ebbs at the edge of her vision.

“Emma, bloody hell, what happened?” Killian’s voice floats into her mind, but she really doesn’t want to open her eyes. “Have you been shot?”

She cracks her eyes open and is greeted with his intense blue stare. “Killy, you came.” She smiles weakly.

Cursing, he tears a bit of his shirt off, tying it tightly around her arm. “Hold on, I’m taking you to the hospital.” He grabs her keys from the lock in the door and runs to the driver’s side. “What did he do to you? I thought you said it was going to be easy!”

He speeds them to the hospital, nervously fidgeting all the way there.

 

~o~

 

She wakes up feeling light and airy. As she opens her eyes, dots swarm around her field of vision. She tips her head up, staring at the ceiling from her bed. “Woah. That’s a weird color,” she croaks out.

“Swan.” He takes her hand, relief in his voice, finally allowing himself to smile. “Do you remember what happened?”

She sits forward, or at least tries to, but the world swirls around her and she falls back on the pillow. Sitting up, it seems, is not the move right now. The stars around Killian’s head agree with her. They’re dancing so prettily, well, not really dancing, more like twirling, spinning, floating, twinkl-

“Emma.” Her name from his lips grabs her attention again. “Emma, did you hear me? What do you remember happening?” He doesn’t sound worried, so she won’t be.

“You have the best smile I’ve ever seen, and your eyes are like the ocean,” she answers instead because it’s true. She’s always thought so but never said anything. “I like the ocean. You like the ocean. We should marry the ocean. Maybe since you can’t marry the ocean, I should marry you because your eyes are like the ocean.” It all comes tumbling out at once. She stares off into the distance. It wouldn’t be too bad to be married to Killian. She never saw herself getting married, but she loves Killian. Woah wait, she loves him? Where did that come from?

“Focus, love.” He shakes her good arm enough to get her attention again.

She furrows her eyebrows and turns her head, eyes glassy.

“You were shot.”

That sobers her up quickly. The color drains out of her face.

“You can’t feel the pain right now because of your medication, and you should be able to remember everything in a little bit, at least the stuff from before you passed out.”

“Oh. Good.” She sits back, head thumping on the backboard. “I think maybe the meds are starting to wear off because that hurt,” she says with a frustrated sigh.

Her heart softens when she sees his concerned look. He cares about her, that’s where the “loves Killian” thing came from. Hopefully she can keep it together enough not to blurt that out in front of him. He doesn’t feel the same way, otherwise he would’ve tried something years ago. Besides, she doesn’t want to lose their perfect friendship.

A nurse opens the door, carrying a small, clear cup with two pills inside. “We’re switching you to pills now that you’re done with surgery. You had bits of bullet logged in your arm, but nothing serious. We stitched you up, and you’ll be good as new in a few weeks. You can take your arm out of the sling in five days. In the meantime I suggest having your handsome boyfriend help with getting dressed and other day to day stuff because you shouldn’t use your arm until it’s out of the sling.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” she says at the same time he says, “She’s not my girlfriend.”

The nurse rolls her eyes. “Sure. Well as long as you have someone to help you.” She passes the cup off to Emma. “These won’t make you as loopy.”

Good. That means she most likely won’t go around blurting out her deepest darkest feelings.

“The doctor will be around to sign the discharge papers shortly.” The nurse steps out of the room as soon as Emma downs the pills.

Killian drives her back to their apartment complex after she gets discharged. He pulls into her parking spot, leaning back and letting his hands fall off the wheel. “Do you just want to stay with me until you’re out of your sling?” He looks over at her.

Stay with Killian? Sure she’s spent the night and they’ve been on vacations together, but staying in his apartment, doing domestic things - it’s different. To be completely honest, even though it’s because she won’t be able to help herself and only temporary, it scares the crap out of her.

She says yes anyways.

“Okay, we can grab some of your stuff and then get you settled in for the night.” He pats her hand lightly and then looks straight forward.

There’s a moment of silence. “Thank you, Killian.” She looks at him after speaking. “I don’t say it enough.”

He whips his head around, lips pressed together in a smile.

Leaning into him, faces inches apart. “Really. You might have saved my life.”

“It was-”

Her tongue runs over her bottom lip and his eyes follow it’s path.

“It was nothing. I’d do anything for you, Swan.” His eyes flicker from her eyes to her lips and back.

Her lips part slightly, but then her foot slips from where it was wedged between the door and the side, jarring her arm, and ruining the moment. Killian takes the opportunity to pull away, opening his door, and rushing around to her side to open hers as well.

“Do you want help getting your stuff or should I just meet you at mine?” He fiddles with the ring on his index finger.

“I think I got it, but I’ll holler if I need you.” She starts up the steps to the fifth floor.

“You know. I’d rather have you holler because you _need_ me.”

She can hear the smirk in his voice and takes comfort in his usual charisma and swagger that’s been missing for the last few hours. At first his constant flirting and innuendos annoyed her to no end, but the more they got to know each other, the more the comments became ‘two best friends teasing’ and less ‘man making derogatory comments’. She figured out a long time ago that his swagger and almost pirate-like attitude were just fronts for him to hide behind.

She unlocks her door and kicks it open, not bothering to shut it behind her because she knows she’ll be in and out. She hurries around her rooms, or at least as best as she can on painkillers, stuffing clothing and toiletries into her duffel bag. The day is starting to get to her as she shuffles around, feeling dead on her feet. She’s been exhausted before, but that was nothing like this. This is a whole new kind of tired. She carefully shuts her door, double checking that she locked it before opening Killian’s.

He’s there waiting for her with a mug of hot chocolate with cinnamon on top, her favorite. They switch the items they are holding - she takes the mug and he takes the duffel. She sways on her feet and he grabs her waist to steady her.

This is the moment when it hits her that she almost died, if it wasn’t for Scarlet’s bad aim. She stood in that empty alley without a weapon because she let her guard down and almost died. During the whole thing, she didn’t even take a moment to think she didn’t want to die. Her bottom lip quivers and she drops her head to his chest, tears starting to fall.

“Shhhh. Shhhh. It’s okay.” He drops her bag so he can take her mug and then pulls her closer to him. “Hey. It’s okay. You’re fine. You’re alive. I’m here,” he says soothingly.

They stand there together in his doorway, her sobbing into his shirt, and him rubbing circles across her back until she calms down.

“This is just the fatigue talking, let’s get you ready for bed.” He ushers her back to the bathroom, helping her out of her jacket.

“My- pajamas- are- on- top-” She says between gasps.

He pulls her tank top and shorts out of the bag and hands them to her, turning his back to give her some privacy while she changes. She sets the clothing down on the counter as she takes off the sling, shimmies out of her skinny jeans, and pulls on her shorts as best she can. She grips the bottom of her shirt, trying to pull it up over her head, but fails, so she reaches back and tries to pull the back of her shirt forward, like Killian does. It doesn’t work either. It’s surprisingly hard to take a shirt off when you only have the use of one arm. She sighs in frustration, closing her eyes to hold back another round of tears.

“Killian,” she squeaks out, defeated.

He turns around, sympathy on his face. He gently takes the bottom of her shirt and lifts it slowly upwards. She gets her left arm out easily and he bunches the shirt up, slipping it over her head and carefully off her right arm. He tosses her dirty shirt in his hamper and then reaches for her pajama top.

“Wait.” She stops him and turns around with a grimace. “Could you?” She points to her bra clasp.

He gulps and with a flick of his wrist, it’s open. She pushes the straps off one at a time before cautiously turning back around to face him.

She is baring her soul to him in a very different way and trusting that he won’t crush it. Her heart constricts as she sees his blank expression and his very obvious concentration at keeping his eyes locked on hers and not somewhere else. She manages to get her bad arm into the shirt, passing it off to Killian to help get it over her head. His eyes are so intense, they’re burning and she knows it’s because of her, or because of the situation she put him in. She puts her arm through the other strap and pulls it down as evenly as she can. He helps fix it, fingers brushing the soft skin on her side, radiating tingles.

She looks in the mirror and reaches for the toilet paper with her right arm, her bad arm, to try and rid her face of the mascara and eyeliner tracks. “This is going to be hard for me,” she sighs.

“I know. You hate asking for help, but at least for tonight and tomorrow, let me do things for you. I already called into the boatyard and told my other mechanics I’d be out for the week. I also called Elsa and told her not to count on you for picking up anyone else for a bit.” When she opens her mouth, presumably to protest, he continues, “She told me to tell you that she’ll keep doing research on your case and that it’ll probably be a while before you get any breaks in it.” He then takes a strip of toilet paper and runs it under the water, bringing it to her cheek to take her makeup trails off, cradling her face with his left hand.

She closes her eyes as the damp tissue crosses her lids, followed by a brush of his thumb, which is repeated on the other side. At this moment she is eternally grateful she only put on the bare minimum and had skipped foundation. Her eyes remain closed even after the tissue is gone. He cups the back of her head, bringing his lips to her forehead. She’d smile at his gesture: it’s so Killian, but she can’t. Not right now, not after today.

“Bedtime, Swan.” He steps back and lets her pass in front of him to his bedroom.  
  
They both crawl under the covers and she curls up against his side. Tomorrow will be better.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry to say that the mostly fluff life always comes with a price *does the swooshy Rumple gesture* Here's where the drama starts. Don't worry, I don't throw you straight into the deep end... That's next chapter.

As soon as she opens her eyes everything swims before her. Her arm is throbbing as well as her head, and her hip is on fire. She rolls over, searching for her alarm clock, only to find a wall where her table normally is. Right, she slept at Killian’s. She struggles out from under the covers, grabbing her sling from the chair across the room. After she gets it on, she pulls the corner of her shorts down to reveal a huge fist-sized bruise on the bone from her gun, and a huge hand-sized one that wraps around to her back from hitting the wall. No wonder her hip hurts so bad. 

The first thing she does is go into the bathroom to make herself somewhat presentable before going to search for Killian. She has no idea what the day, or the week, will have in store for her, but she’s pretty sure it’s going to be hell. 

She surveys the counter, making a mental list of all the things she’ll be able to do on her own. She’ll be able to brush her teeth, shower, and take her pills, but she’ll need help washing and brushing her hair. She’s not even going to worry about changing today. She snatches the bottle of pills from their place and wedges them between her arm and the counter in order to press down and twist the child safety lid off. Luckily she’s done this enough when she’s driving from town to town for hours on end and needed an asprin. She shakes two out onto the counter and fills a dixie cup up with water, downing it all in a single gulp, setting the cup aside for after she brushes her teeth. 

Killian must know she’s up because he can definitely hear the water running, and yet he’s not in here by her. She knows if he almost died, she wouldn’t be able to leave his side. That’s the difference between him and her. He knows she needs her space to figure things out and once she’s attached to someone, she can’t let them go. It hurts too much after everyone walking out of her life. It’s a dangerous game she’s playing with Killian because of this. Trying to distance herself enough that if he ever leaves too, it’s not going to kill her, but remain close enough that she’s not alone. She’s afraid she crossed the line a long, long time ago. 

“I heard the water turn off. Do you need my help yet?” The look of apprehension in his eyes startles her.

Maybe they aren’t that different after all. Clearly him letting her have space to do things on her own is killing him. 

“Yeah, good timing. I was just about to ask if you’d help with my hair.” She pulls the tangled mess over her shoulder and then waves her brush at him. 

“Sure, but it’ll probably be easier if you sit down.” He leaves and returns with one of the wooden chairs from the table, setting it down in front of the mirror for her to sit down in. 

He towers over her and if she leans back far enough her head touches his stomach. He gathers all of her long blonde locks in one hand and starts brushing out the ends of it. It’s actually really relaxing and she can feel the tension leaving in waves. After each brush, he runs his hand through her hair, trying to get the more stubborn knots out in the least painful way. She drops her shoulders, eyes closing. After he gets all the tangles out, she can feel him playing with her hair, something he doesn’t do very often. A few minutes later he drops her hair and she opens her eyes slowly. She runs her hand over the back of her head, feeling what he did.

“You can braid? How come you’ve never braided my hair before?” 

“Just didn’t. I figured it would be easier for you to handle like this. I can take it out if you don’t like it.” He steps back, allowing her to push the chair back to stand up.

“No, this is good. Thank you.”

He takes the chair and returns it to it’s proper place. “I made breakfast if you want any.” 

“I’m not too hungry. The pain pills make me kind of nauseous. I’m probably going to work on research for awhile.” 

“I thought Elsa was going to handle that?” 

“There’s just a huge margin for error here. We can’t have too much research.” 

“Is that code for it’s going to be dangerous?” 

“Yeah, actually really dangerous.” 

“You have to do it?”

“Well, no, but-”

“Then why are you taking it?”

They’re going to have this fight again? Of course. Something goes wrong and she gets injured, no matter how minor, and he goes off about how her job is too dangerous. Granted, this time he has a point because this is the most serious injury she’s ever had. 

“Listen, I’m going to tell you what’s going on.” She sits down in the closest chair, meds finally kicking in and making her dizzy. She motions for him to join her, but he remains standing. “A few weeks ago Elsa was approached by the feds. I’ve worked with them before, bringing in minor criminals, but nothing this serious. I never told you because you think my job is dangerous enough as it is going after county jail bail skippers.This time a serial killer somehow met his $50 million bail and then ran. They aren’t sure how. They asked for our help tracking him down because I can track down anyone and because I’m the easiest to work with.”

“Are you serious? Why would you go after a serial killer? Are you trying to get yourself killed?” He paces the floor, running a hand through his hair aggressively. “You got shot going after someone who broke into a library! Bloody hell, this is crazy, Emma.” 

“I can take care of myself! I made a one time stupid mistake that has never happened before and will never happen again. I can handle this, Killian. You don’t need to protect me.” She fumes. Just because she made one error in judgement doesn’t give him the right to get over protective.  

“You can’t do this. What if he tracks you down before you get him? I can’t lose you, Emma.” He faces her. “Please, just don’t.”

She gets it now. “They’re paying me $25 an hour. I made over $500 just in the last two weeks. Not only that, but they’re going to give me a $5 million reward for finding him and helping to bring him in. I wouldn’t need to work at all after this. I could travel, leave Boston, do whatever I wanted!” 

“Oh.” He stops pacing, energy to fight gone. “That’s your endgame?”

“Think of the possibilities, Killian, you could sail again!” She sounds so genuinely excited about this.

“Sailing long term isn’t fun by yourself.” He just sounds more and more disappointed, like he can feel her leaving already in some form.

“So we’d sail together. You could show me the world.” 

They’d always joked about pooling their money to buy a ship just big enough to live on the ocean, and sailing away together, but never seriously. It was never a possibility for either of them. 

“Don’t say that just because of what I said, you do what you want with your money that will make you happy.”

Changing the subject, she stands up, grabbing her purse from a hook by the door. “The Fed guy I’m working with gave me his number. David Nolan, he said to call if I had any questions. Here.” She hands him a card.

He studies the bold block numbers sprawled across the paper. He should call, if only to make sure Nolan knows he will kill him if she dies. “Can I at least help with anything?”

“I’m not sure. I doubt it.” She goes over the list of things they know about the killer. “His name is Gold, or that’s at least what everyone calls him. He’s somewhere in Massachusetts, we all think he came back here, to Boston. When he was first arrested they found different poisons in this cabinet.” She wracks her brain for more facts, but she can’t seem to think with the fog from the pills. “That’s all I can think of right now. These stupid pain pills.” 

“Don’t worry, we can talk later. If you insist on working, go easy. We don’t need you messing this up.” 

She bristles a tiny bit at that, but let’s it go. He means well.

The next few days go as well as can be expected. Emma getting frustrated when she can’t do something simple by herself and Killian calming her down, or working too hard and then he has to pull her away from her computer, but the stitches are out before she knows it. It definitely went faster than she could’ve asked for. Somewhere between her trip to get her stitches out and her follow up after that, they both decided it would be easier for her to just stay with him until this Gold mess is done, so he can remind her to eat and take breaks. Of course that makes things a bit awkward when Killian starts dating one of the nurses and brings her back to the apartment, but between doubling down at work and her physical therapy, she’s hardly ever there except to sleep, and some nights not even then. 

Those are the nights where he calls her cell and gets no answer, so he calls her work, Elsa, David, and practically everyone else she knows to make sure she’s just sleeping there and not dead. 

She jiggles the doorknob, wondering why all of a sudden Killian’s door is locked, while she fishes for her key in her bag. It’s always open for her unless it’s past midnight because he goes to bed then and likes to know when she’s home safe. By her watch it’s not even past ten yet. 

“There you are,” she calls happily when she locates the pesky key at the very bottom of her bag. As soon as the door is open she understands why it was locked in the first place. He was trying to tell her not to come in. 

Two wine glasses sit on the coffee table in front of a TV playing to an empty room. It’s obvious where they are because a trail of clothes lead to his bedroom. Her heels by the couch, his belt in the hallway, her shirt outside his door. She feels a pang in her stomach. She’s not sure why this upsets her so much. She’s brought home guys before, never to Killian’s apartment of course, but still. She just never pictured him doing this. He never talks about sex. He listens to her complain about it, talks about her sex life when she brings it up, even gave her tips on what feels the best during blowjobs when she asked him, but he’s never talked about himself. Snapping out of her haze, she picks up the key to her apartment that she left on the key hook, catching a glimpse of the security card pinned to the woman’s jacket hanging next to the keys. Milah Shelley. The nurse who removed her stitches. Why didn’t he tell her they’re dating? Unless it’s a recent thing, but she got her stitches out almost three weeks ago. 

Feeling betrayed, she backs out of his apartment, suddenly very glad the door doesn’t squeak. Her apartment feels empty after not being lived in almost three weeks. She flips on the light, surveying the area, and trying to collect herself after walking in on  _ that _ . Her computer is in his apartment, so she can cross work off her list of things to keep her busy. She’d read, but of course she doesn’t have her book either and hates to stare reading a new book while in the middle of another. That just leaves the TV. 

She changes into a pair of long flannel pants and an old t-shirt she never wears anymore because she doesn’t have anymore tank tops and shorts left here. She does however have her favorite blanket. She wraps it around herself and curls up on the couch with the remote, turning off her phone for the first time in days. It’s time for Emma. She needs to relax and get everything out of her head, needs to get him out of her head. She turns on the TV, ready to watch some mindless show, but barely watches fifteen minutes before she falls asleep.

Waking up on the couch is never fun. Her back and neck hurt from sleeping at an uncomfortable angle, and she overslept because she turned her phone off. Luckily all she missed was an early morning physical therapy appointment, one she can reschedule, and not something more important. With how protective Killian has been recently, she’s surprised to see that she doesn’t have any missed calls from anyone but the therapy center. Honestly, she kind of expected (hoped?) she would wake up to him checking in on her, but he didn’t. Probably because Milah is still there. She really hopes not. There’s only one way to find out. 

Pulling the blanket tighter around herself like armor, she exits her apartment and tentatively places a hand on his doorknob. 

“Hello, Miss Swan! Are you selling your apartment?” Mrs. Worthington, the neighbor on Killian’s other side, asks.

“No, why do you ask?” She removes her hand, glad for the conversation to postpone the moment she’s dreading. 

“Because you moved in with your boyfriend a few weeks ago.” She grins at Emma. “About time too!”

“Oh, he’s not my boyfriend.” She would almost prefer walking in on Killian and Milah to this. 

Mrs. Worthington chuckles at her. “Try telling that to my bedroom wall. I heard you guys last night.”

Emma blanches. That is the kind of thing she did not need, or want to hear. “Well I- I better get-” She motions to the door.

“Don’t be embarrassed, dear. It sounded like you really had a connection.” She starts walking down the hall and Emma can hear her talk to herself. “The noises he made, looooordie.”

Now she really, really,  _ really _ doesn’t want to face whatever’s behind this door. Something is bugging her about what Mrs. Worthington said. She thought Milah was Emma. Does that mean he never said Milah’s name, or was her name the one moaned as they came together? She doesn’t dwell on that thought long. It won’t happen because she’s never going to let it. 

She pushes open the door, ready for whatever storm is about to hit her. There isn’t anyone up and about, which means they’re still in bed and he’s going to make her breakfast, or she left early and he didn’t get up at the crack of dawn like normal. She’s really glad she doesn’t have to go into the bedroom to get clean clothes because she left some stuff in the clean clothes hamper. Quietly, she moves into the bathroom to get ready and leaves the apartment before she runs into anyone. Maybe they’re both gone? It’s unusual for him to sleep in past seven unless it’s a Sunday. 

She needs to focus on the day ahead of her. She’s meeting with David to go over everything she’s learned so far, then plan their strategy for tracking Gold down. She double- and triple-checks that she has her laptop and charger in the car, and goes over her notes mentally while she drives. Normally she doesn’t get nervous, but this time is different. This time she has to be accountable for more than herself. She pulls into the parking lot for her office, gathering all the supplies she’ll need.

“‘Elsa, is David here yet?” Emma asks as she walks in the front door. 

“Yes, he got here a few minutes ago. I sent him back to the conference room.” Elsa gives her a hopeful smile.

Emma shifts her bag into her stronger arm, and gathers her hair, tossing it over her shoulder nervously before opening the conference room door. 

“Miss Swan! Nice to see you again.” David stands and shakes her hand, motioning for her to sit across from him at the long table.

She looks at all the papers and files spread out between them, piles of them, and all she has is her laptop and a single file. 

“Shall we start?” He sits down, pulling out an iPad. “These are all the missing person’s files related to Gold,” he motions to the stacks on his left, “and this is everything we know about him.” He motions to far fewer folders on his right. “I’m not sure how much help the cases will be, but maybe it’ll give us some idea of who he might go after next.”

“I found someone he might have had contact with. I haven’t reached out to them yet because I want to make sure it’s not a joke, but here’s the address.” She scribbles it down on a paper square, and slides it across the table to David. 

“We should visit them as soon as possible.” David tucks the paper into his notes. 

They spend hours pouring over the papers, studying all the little details, only taking a fifteen minute break when Elsa drops off lunch for them. Emma has a headache from all the talking and frustration. It seems like all they do is go from one impossible idea to another with no hope of finding something that will work. 

“We know he’s in Massachusetts. We know he’s angry at whoever turned him in. He’s probably going to go after whoever did it, but we don’t know who that is, and we don’t know if he knows who.” She lets her head fall into her hands. “We need to figure out who turned him in. Do you have a number or any sort of clue from the tip?” It comes out all mumbled because her head is still in her hands.

“I have this form,” he starts rifling through his files, “but it’s mostly redacted. The only thing I was able to track down with it was this address. We checked it out already and no one lives there. It’s an empty lot.” 

Emma slumps back in her chair. “This is going nowhere.” 

“Maybe we should take a break; go see this guy.” He waves the address of the person Emma found.  
  
Emma stands up and stretches. “Good idea.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember that warning from last chapter? Yeah, I was serious... I'm so sorry.

Emma pulls her hair back into a ponytail as she and David stand on the stoop of an unassuming house in the middle of a white suburban neighborhood, preparing for a chase if it comes down to it. David rings the doorbell, eyeing the rusty screen door, and pushes back his leather jacket, a hand on his hip. She can hear footsteps and then the second door opens. A brown-haired man stares back, until he doesn’t.

The man takes off through his house. David throws open the screen door and sprints after him, screaming about being FBI, while Emma books it to the backyard. She jumps the stereotypical white picket fence and sees the man trying to scramble up the higher side of the fence that lines the back perimeter of his yard. She reaches up and grabs him by his belt, pulling him to the ground, and pinning him with a knee. 

“I guess we never considered the possibility that he worked with Gold and that’s why he’s still alive,” David gasps, finally catching up to her.

“Wait, wait, you’re not working for Gold?” the man rasps out.

“No. I thought you saw my badge and ran, didn’t you hear me shouting?” David asks, skeptical.

“I saw your gun and all I was concerned with was preserving my life.” 

David nods and Emma lets him up.

“Emma Swan.” She sticks out her hand.

“Neal Cassidy.” He takes it and then repeats it with David. 

“David Nolan. Do you mind if we ask you some questions.” 

“So this is about my father?” Neal sighs deeply.

David and Emma share a pointed look. Neal is Gold’s son? She cautiously moves her hand to her gun. If he’s his son, there’s no telling what he’ll do.

“He somehow posted bail and then skipped town,” David says. “You’re going to have to come with us to the station. I’d question you here, but legally I have to do it there.” 

Emma sticks close behind Neal as they walk towards the car, ready to pull out her gun if she needs to, but thankfully they make it into the car without any issues.

The ride to the station is quiet and tense, almost like the air is being compressed around the three of them. She can’t wait to escape the metal prison and audibly sighs when they pull into the station parking lot. 

“We need to know everything you know about Gold,” Emma says patiently as they sit down in the holding room.

“Well to start off, he wasn’t always like this. I mean, he was, but not like this. He used to pickpocket, steal a few things, a gallon of milk here, a carton of eggs there. Then he moved on to small cons, like selling a car that wasn’t his. After that he started getting me involved, have me get hit by a car and then sue whoever hit me. He only did all that for me, I suppose. He always said he didn’t have enough to support me.”

“You shouldn’t defend him,” David glares at Neal. “He’s in the wrong no matter what you say.”

“Oh, trust me I’m not defending the man he is now.” Neal looks away from the harsh stare. “When I turned eighteen, he told me it was time to pull my own weight and brought me to a bank for my ‘initiation,’ as he called it. It was the first time he had attempted something that big, or at least as far as I know it was. He told me he knew how to get in and out with the money without injuring anyone or taking hostages. The staff had just changed over and I was supposed to go in saying I was this guy, I don’t remember who anymore, but it was someone who had just put a hugely valuable item in a safety deposit box a few hours before. I was supposed to say I had dropped my key down a sewer drain and needed to get back into my box. He had IDs made and everything for me.”

“That could mean he has a government buddy,” David says, leaning toward Emma.

Neal pulls at his sleeve before continuing. “He was going to come in after me and force the banker to open some of the other boxes as well. Essentially, it didn’t go as planned and he started shooting people to get out. That’s when I decided I didn’t want to be involved in his mess, so with all the chaos, I was able to run for it and I’ve been running ever since. When I left, he snapped. Started chasing me state to state. After he was locked up, I bought a house here, someplace you wouldn’t expect me.” He looks up at the ceiling, studying something invisible to Emma and David. 

“Now that we know he was chasing you the whole time, he’s probably going to come for you again. We can protect you if you’d like.” David reaches for his phone.

“I think I’m safe right now. The last time I had any problems was a few months before he was arrested. His wife tried to seduce me for my bank information.”

Emma and David exchange glances.

“I don’t think she realized it was me. She’d only ever seen pictures of me because they got married after I ran away. It was closest he’s ever co-” Neal rambles.

“Wife?” Emma questions. “You didn’t say anything about him having a partner earlier.”

“Yeah his wife, Milah, I guess I just-”

A sick feeling drowns Emma. “Milah Shelley?” She cuts him off. Neal nods and Emma stands, knocking over the pitcher of water on the table in the process. “David, I have to go, we have to-”

“Emma, calm down. What’s wrong?”

“Killian was with her last night. David, we have to go. He’s in trouble. He wasn’t there this morning. David, come on.” She pulls on his arm, turning on her heels quickly. That’s when her phone rings.  _ Blocked Caller _ flashes ominously on the screen. “Killian?” She lets out in a whoosh of breath. 

“No dearie, I’m afraid it’s not your precious Killian.” a Scottish accent snaps back at her. 

Quickly, Emma presses the speakerphone button.

“I know you’ve been working with FBI,” Gold taunts. “But now I have something you want, as you have something I want.”

She looks at Neal.

“Yes, I know you contacted my son. I have some rules before I give Mr. Jones back.”

“I don’t want to hear them,” Emma says angrily.

“You’ll do what I ask or he’ll die, and you don’t want that do you?”

“How do I know he’s not dead already? You need to give me proof before I do anything for you.”

Static on the line has Emma worrying he hung up, but it is soon replaced by labored breathing. 

“Emma?”

“Killian? I’m here. It’ll be okay. We’re going to save you.”

Gold’s smooth voice replaces Killian’s. “You have your proof, now here are my terms. You will leave Neal on the Charlestown bridge. I will pick him up there and leave Mr. Jones’ coordinates on the first lamp post going north. You will come back an hour later to get the address. You have twelve hours starting now to get to him before he dies, which will be plenty of time if you do what I say. Keep in mind that the longer you wait, the closer your… boy toy… gets to death, so if I were you, I’d leave Neal with two hours to spare. I just want my boy back, Ms. Swan.” 

Gold hangs up and the dead air eats away at her nerves as she cautiously meets Neal’s gaze. There’s no way she can turn him over to Gold. He’s worked so hard to get away from that life, only now to be thrown back to a murderer? She stares at him while she thinks. His eyes are veiled. They seem sad, pleading, but mostly sorrowful. Would that be sympathy or resignation? He doesn’t even know her and probably thinks she’s going to give him up. From the phone call Gold sure made it sound like she’s in love with Killian and why would she risk her boyfriend’s life for a stranger? It’s an impossible decision. To a normal person this would be a no brainer, but it’s never as simple as people think it is. 

“I’m not doing that. We’ll find another way. Right, David?” 

“We’ll try, but I think in this situation it might be best to leave Neal and station some agents on the bridge to track him down after Gold collects him.”

“He could kill either of them before we get to them. That’s a bad idea.”

“I don’t see any other way. Boston is so big. There are thousands of places he could be. I’ll start looking, but maybe you should be coming to terms with not turning over Neal and possibly losing Killian, or getting Killian back and possibly losing Neal.”

“I’m going to start searching. Do you mind if I take a conference room?” She grabs her laptop from the questioning room before he even answers and calls her gratitude over her shoulder.

Her heart is racing as she all but runs down to the closest conference room, shakily pulling the blinds closed as soon as the door is shut. Twelve hours, she has twelve hours before Killian dies, and she has no intention of wasting a single second. She rolls over the large whiteboard with a map of Boston on the back and places a single red pin on the Charlestown bridge. 

The door opens and David enters. “I thought I’d work in here with you. Two heads is better than one and all that.”

“Sure,” she says absently, too focused on the map to reply with anything else. Did Gold leave any clues in his phone call? She recollects his ransom call. “Did Gold say to leave two hours after we drop off Neal, or did he just say leave time, because if he said two, we can use that to narrow down the search area?”

“I’m fairly certain he said two hours.” David joins Emma in front of the map. 

“Okay, good. That’ll narrow down the search field.” She takes a marker and draws a circle around the bridge. “He’ll have to be within a one hour of the bridge because we were told to wait for an hour after leaving Neal before collecting the address.”

“Or he’s just outside the hour radius because he wants to give you hope and doesn’t want Killian to be rescued. He’s seen his face. Why would Gold let him get away?” David crosses his arms. 

“To me, he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who would do that.”

David just scoffs. 

Emma rolls her eyes in exasperation. “I have a sort of sixth sense, you could say. I can tell when people are lying and he wasn’t lying there. I’m going to trust him… for the most part. That’s another thing. He said address, not directions or coordinates, address. I doubt he’d put someone he kidnapped in a public area, so that means someplace abandoned.” 

“I’ll run a list of abandoned buildings for you.”

“Or in the tunnels.” She puts the end of the marker up to her mouth. “Do you think he’d include rescue time into his hour?”

“It’s possible. If what you said earlier is true, he most likely included it.” 

“So what, that takes a half hour off? Throw me another marker.” She draws a smaller circle inside the larger one. “That’s where we should be looking.” She taps the map.

“I’m still going to compile a list of all buildings within an hour radius.”

“Fine, good, yeah.” She steps back from the map.

It’s all hitting her now. Killian has been kidnapped. His life's in danger. She hasn’t even called him yet. What if he still has his cell phone on him? He might pick up. He might answer her call and admit this was all just a big joke and that he’s home safe.

The rational part of her knows he isn’t going to answer. 

She dials his number anyway. 

Leaving the room, she heads down the hallway to the bathroom, locking the door behind her. 

The phone rings and rings and rings, but there’s no answer, save for his voicemail, like she thought. “Killian-” She stops, trying to think of what to tell him. “I’m going to find you, don’t worry. I’m working with David Nolan, the detective I told you about. He thinks we won’t find you, but I don’t believe that for one second. Stay alive.”

She hangs up, feeling silly talking to an answering machine. Whatever is happening to him, it’s probably not good, and she does not like that; can’t bear to think about it. Her eyes start to water, so she carefully dabs them with her sleeve before unlocking the door and going to find David. 

“Did you get the list?” She anxiously shifts her weight.

The list David hands her is incredibly long. There’s no way they can look through all these buildings and the miles of tunnels under the city. 

“I already informed a BPD team of our situation and instructed them on searching through the tunnels. All we’ll have to do is look through the buildings and, when it comes time, delivering Neal to Gold. I figured we could start outside and work our way towards the bridge.”

She sighs. “It’s going to be a long night.”  
  
Ten hours and twenty-seven minutes left.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was pretty painful to write. *sings Hamilton 'Stay Alive' and cries*

Darkness. That’s all he can see. Killian struggles to open his eyes, feeling as if there’s twenty pounds on each lid. What happened? He tries to bring his hand to his face to rub his eyes, but he can’t. Something is digging into his wrist, maybe? He can’t really feel anything. 

An accented voice speaks from somewhere on his right. “Are you with us, Mr. Jones?”

He struggles even more to open his eyes.

“Ah. I see you’re still feeling the effects of the little paralytic I gave you. Don’t worry, it’ll work it’s way out of your system soon enough. Meanwhile, I’m going to talk about what’s going to happen,” the man says again. “Your girlfriend has been trying to find me, but I’m putting an end to that. She found someone I’ve been looking for and I’m going to trade you for him. That is… if she can find you in time.” 

The paralytic finally wears off enough that he can open his eyes. He’s in a small metal and concrete room, with his hands bound to the chair he’s sitting in the middle of the room in. This must be Gold, but what happened? He thinks back. Nothing. There isn’t anything there. The last thing he can remember is his night with Milah. He curses. Milah. Is she okay? What happened to her? Hopefully Gold didn’t get her, he wouldn’t want that. Sure, he didn’t exactly click with her last night, but he wouldn’t want harm to befall her. He should really give her another chance, after all his...mind...was in another place, and that’s not exactly fair to her. 

“Ready to go, dearie?” Gold is addressing someone out of Killian’s line of sight. 

“Yes. I’m done with this.”

That voice - it can’t be. 

His breath rushes out of him like he’s been punched when Milah steps into his view. 

“You were- you are- you’re with Gold?” Killian asks when he finally catches his breath. 

Milah takes a step over to him, running a long fingernail down the side of his face. “The whole time.”

He jerks his head back as a memory comes to him. He had just stepped into the shower. He was rinsing the shampoo out of his hair when he heard footsteps.

“No.” He shakes his head.

_ The shampoo dripped into his eyes. Milah had just left. He couldn’t blame her for leaving so soon. Waking up next to her was really awkward for both of them, of course that was mostly his fault and not so much hers.  _

_ Footsteps. _

_ “Emma? Is that you? Sorry about… You can come in if you want.” He shouted over the rush of water.  _

_ The bathroom door opened and someone stood facing him. He couldn’t really make out anything other than the blur of a shadow on the curtain because he was squinting through the sting of soap. The blur moved and pulled the shower curtain back.  _

_ “Emma, what are you doing? Are you sure you want to do this?” His heart rate increased, pounding in his chest, and all he could think about is how the hot water was burning his back and how he should’ve rinsed the shampoo out of his eyes when it first happened, just so he could watch the moment his Swan stepped into the shower with him. “Hold on, let me just-” He tipped his head back, finally ridding them of the irritant. He opened his eyes to see Milah, not Emma, staring back at him. He couldn’t help but feel disappointed. “Milah. I’m sorry, love. I thought you were someone else. Did you want to join me?” He said, significantly less enthusiastically.  _

_ “Not particularly.” She punched him in the jaw, making him stagger back into the wall. _

_ “What are you doing?” _

_ “Nothing you’re going to remember in a few hours.” She plunged a needle into his neck. _

“It’s true. It’s the only reason I asked you on a date. Three weeks leading up to. This. Very. Moment.” She punctuates each word with a poke to his chest. 

She turns on her heels and struts up the stairs, opening the door in the ceiling, and briefly letting light into the dark room. Gold follows her slowly, facing his captive. Killian tracks them with his eyes and then with his head. He can wiggle his fingers now, too. It won’t be long until he’ll be able to move everything. 

“Good luck surviving, Mr. Jones.”

Then the light is gone. 

He isn’t surprised they kidnapped him to get to Emma; they’re best friends. Though they got something wrong. Emma cares about him, not to the degree Gold thinks, but there’s no way she’d throw someone back to this monster. It would be despicable, and she’s not that sort of person. Especially after what she’s gone through herself - being abandoned and thrown into foster home after foster home, getting the occasional one that would abuse her. No, she’ll find a way to rescue him, but it might be too late. 

He only regrets not being honest and open with her, there’s no way he’s dying without letting her know somehow that he actually loves her. He looks around the room. It looks like a fallout shelter of some sort, but it’s been emptied. He knows there are stairs in the corner, with a door leading out. He heard the bolt slide into place, so no escape there. There’s a small vent on the top left wall, but there is no panel to pry off because it was built right into the wall. It’s probably an air filter, carbon dioxide in, oxygen out, made for long term underground survival. That means there’d be some sort of access room for maintenance. The door is most likely behind him, but he won’t know until he gets out of this chair. 

He circles his wrists. The knots are tied very loosely, as if by an amateur, but Gold had kidnapped people before right? Wouldn’t he know how to properly restrain his victim? Killian easily slips out of the ropes. The only reason for him not tying them properly would be if he wants him to escape. 

The first thing he does is head straight for the back wall where the door to the air filtration machine is. He yanks on the handle - locked. It looks as if it was rusted shut previously, but recently busted open, replaced with a stronger lock he can’t break without tools. Whatever is back there, Gold doesn’t want him getting to it. Something behind the door whirs to life and he jumps just a little, not that he’ll admit it to anyone once he gets out of here. It’s probably only the air filter. He glances at the vent. That’s exactly what happened. He can see small amounts of dust being blown into room. He lazily tracks them with his eyes; watches them loop around the room until they get to him. Nothing to worry about. 

He paces the perimeter, checking the walls for any cracks or signs of hidden doors. He doubts there are any, but it’s better to check and be wrong then to be proven wrong later. He wonders what Emma is doing right now. Has she discovered him missing yet?  _ She didn’t come home _ , he catches and corrects himself before finishing that thought.  _ She didn’t come back to his apartment last night. _ Of course he wouldn’t know if she stopped by this morning, and if she had, she might have just thought he had gone to work already. There’s always a hostage call. She must know by now. 

There isn’t any way out other than the staircase door and maybe something behind the locked air vent door. He might be able to break the lock with the chair. If he can slam it down on the door knob hard enough and at the right angle it might work, but if it didn’t he would be wrecking the only place to sit, and he really doesn’t want to sit on the freezing concrete floor. He walks over to the chair, testing its strength by putting pressure on it and then wiggling. It seems very unstable, most likely not strong enough to break a lock.

Time feels like it’s moving incredibly slow. It could be minutes or hours since he woke up. Being drugged and not having any source of outside light is throwing off his internal clock. His stomach rumbles. He didn’t have breakfast, or at least not before being kidnapped. Another memory comes rushing back so hard that he stumbles. 

_ He was in a brightly lit room, above ground. Which was odd because he couldn’t hear any traffic or chatter from the outside. He was kneeling on a carpeted floor and his right hand was tied, no, handcuffed to a steel pipe that ran up one wall, across the ceiling, and down the other side. The clock on the wall ticked to two o’clock. A plate was pushed across the floor to him.  _

_ “Eat up. You’ll want a full stomach for later, or at least I want you to have a full stomach. More fun for me that way,” Gold cackled.  _

_ Killian clenched his jaw. He wasn’t going to eat anything this maniac gave him.  _

_ “You’re not going to eat?” Gold crossed the room to stand menacingly in front of him. He picked up a piece of fruit and popped it into his mouth. “Trust it now?” _

_ Killian narrowed his eyes.  _

_ “Eat!” Gold reached down and gripped his bottom jaw, digging into his skin with his sharp nails, crocodile claws almost. He pulled Killian’s face up towards his. “You won’t eat? Well, then you’ll just die faster, dearie. It doesn’t matter to me when you die.” He shoved Killian back down to the floor. _

So he had eaten, but it must’ve been hours ago. He sighs and unceremoniously flops into the chair. There’s nothing to do now but wait. 


	6. Chapter 6

Nine hours and forty-seven minutes.

Emma and David speed up to the first building on their list in his car, sirens screaming. If Gold and Killian are down there, there won’t be a surprise ambush now. They could probably hear the car approaching from down the block. 

David screeches to a stop, jumping out of the car with Emma and slamming the door. “I wish you would stay in the car.”

“That’s not going to happen. I’m just as trained as you are.” Emma pulls out her gun.

David follows her lead and removes his gun from his holster as well. “Yeah, okay, just stay behind me. I’m the one with the FBI badge here.” 

The pair sneak up to the door. David kicks it open and quickly searches the few rooms on the first floor before yelling, “Clear!” He then motions for Emma to search upstairs, while he goes down into the basement.

There are only two rooms upstairs, no one in any of them, so Emma joins David in the basement. 

“There isn’t anyone here,” she says with a sigh. Doubt and worry begin to creep over her. There’s no way they can search the whole list and find Killian in time. Someone is going to lose this war and she prays it won’t be them. 

Back in the car, Emma crosses off the first house while David enters the address for the next one in the GPS. 

“It looks like the next one is an old factory warehouse. Do you mind if I sit this one out? I’m going to see if I can narrow this list down even more because at this rate we won’t even make it through half the list before the time is up.” Emma shuffles around the papers.

“Good idea.” He starts the car. 

She knows she should say something. They should be discussing Plan B if this one fails or how they are going to capture Gold once Killian is safely back home, but all she can manage is sitting in silence the whole time to the factory.

She pulls out her phone as soon as David is out of the car, automatically pressing the speed dial button for Killian’s phone. She doesn’t expect an answer, but it gives her the illusion of actually talking to him, and she’ll take that over nothing.

“We have a plan, sort of. Right now David and I are checking out abandoned buildings here. The list is miles long though and…” she trails off, letting the silence eat away at her before going on, “We are doing the best we can to find you. I’m trying to narrow down the list. We know you’re within an hour of the Charlestown Bridge, possibly thirty minutes.” The voicemail box beeps, signaling the end of her allotted time. She wishes she could talk to the real him and not just a recorded voice.

David pulls open the door, startling her from her thoughts. “Nothing there.” 

She crosses off the building’s address.

It seems like Killian isn’t anywhere because the next five places they search come up empty, except for a few random squatters, and with each address crossed off the list, Emma’s hope dwindles.

“I was thinking. All the buildings we’ve searched in the more populated areas had squatters in them. Wouldn’t Gold want to put Killian somewhere where druggies and homeless wouldn’t wander in?”

“Good point. I’ll take that into consideration when I’m looking at the rest of the list.” He takes the list of houses from Emma and starts driving.

“We,” she corrects. 

“No, I. You are going back to your apartment and going to bed. It is ten o’clock and we’ve been searching for hours. You won’t do him any good if you’re exhausted when we find him.”

When. He’s started using when.

She opens her mouth to protest, but he promptly cuts her off. “I’ll call if I find anything. Promise.”

“Okay, fine, but the second,  _ the second _ , you see  _ anything  _ suspicious, you call me.”

“Deal. Oh, look at that, we’re at your apartment! Now go sleep.” David pulls to the curb and all but shoves Emma out of the car. 

There’s no way she can sleep. Not when there are only six hours and forty-three minutes left to find Killian. She unlocks her door with a shaky hand and drops her stuff as soon as she’s inside, kicking off her shoes as she makes her way to the bedroom. If she’s going to get any sleep, she’ll have to change into pajamas first. 

Emma lets the mundane activities of getting ready for bed take her mind off the search, quite the difficult feat right now. Hair brushed and up in a ponytail, she throws on a shirt and sweatpants, and then lies down on her bed. She pulls the sheets up to her neck and snuggles down. 

She can't help but wonder where Killian is and how he’s doing. If he doesn’t make it out of this mess because of her, then she’s not sure how she’d live with herself. He has so much he hasn’t done yet. He has a future with some beautiful girl out there waiting for him to show up in her life. 

A wave of sadness washes over her and she checks the clock.

Six hours left.

She throws back the covers and grabs her favorite blanket from on top, wrapping it around her, and going to her couch. She has to call him again. 

The same thing happens and she’s not sure why she expected him to answer this time.

“Hey, Killian. David sent me home.” She runs a hand over her hair. “He said I was just stressing him out and that I wouldn’t be any help to you without sleep, so I'm home. I can’t sleep though. I can only think about you, and what Gold is doing to you. Please be okay… Bye.” She sets her phone down, leaning back into the couch cushion. 

It’s then that she lets her feelings out. Finally taking time to examine how she actually feels, and it feels good to let it go. She loves him. She loves him so much and she can’t just sit here doing nothing. She needs to be out actively looking. His future with that girl is with her. Their story is far from finished, and she doesn’t want it ending with her crying over an empty coffin. He doesn’t even know she cares, doesn’t know how much her heart aches for him. 

She jumps up from her place, letting the blanket fall from her shoulders and picking up her phone. Before David came back from their last building, she had taken pictures of the list of houses. She can at least look through a few by herself. 

Picking up her phone, she calls Elsa. “Hey, sorry it’s so late, but I need someone to drive me somewhere. I’m going out to look for Killian by myself and I'm too nervous to drive.” Emma waits, listening to Elsa saying she can be there in fifteen minutes. “Thanks so much.”

Then she dials Killian. 

“I can’t sit here. I can’t sleep knowing you’re out there in pain. I love you, Killian, and I can’t live without you, so I’ll find you. Don’t worry.” 

This is the first time she’s felt hope, actual thriving hope, this whole time, and it feels wonderful. She will find him. She can find anyone and he is no different. 

She slips on her shoes and runs out the door, almost forgetting to lock it behind her. Elsa should be here any second. 

Five hours and twelve minutes left.

She searches the list from the bottom up, so there’s less chance of her running into David, or them searching the same building twice. Elsa is all too happy to drive her around, which is strange because she normally needs her “beauty sleep,” but Emma guesses she wants Killian safe too.

The buildings are mostly the same; one or two story condemned houses with, some with perimeters, some without, all completely empty. It seems like they are becoming more and more decayed, not suitable for holding someone captive. With each building crossed off the list, it feels like she’s crossing a piece of herself off too.

Her heart pounds in her chest as she looks at the daunting list. There’s a little over two pages between where she stopped with David and where she is right now. 

He phone rings and she fumbles to pick it up, voice shaking, “Killian?”

“I wish, but no. It’s David. You should go to the station and prep Neal.” He sounds as disappointed as she feels.

She looks at her watch, it’s one in the morning. Where did all the time go? 

“I’m coming up empty here and I don’t want to risk something going wrong. I’m going to keep searching. I’ll see you at the drop site.” He hangs up the phone. 

“One last favor. Can you take me to the station? We’re going to have to trade Neal.” She says to Elsa, resting her head in her hands. “I’m just so worried we aren’t going to get him back, Elsa.” It comes out muffled. “We’ve all worked so hard to get him back, but we’re not any closer.” She chokes out a sob, but gets it under control before she starts to cry. 

The half hour drive back to the station goes by in a blink. Time has been moving too fast ever since David made her go home. She wishes it would slow down, just so she could have time to think and breathe. 

The station is mostly dark, save for the room Neal is in and a few offices. She walks faster through the darkened areas, wanting to spend as little time as possible with the creepy shadows. 

“Neal, it looks like we are going to have to go with plan B.”

The look on his face is dread, disappointment, and fear. 

“I know, I’m sorry. I wish it didn’t have to be this way either.” She crosses the room and puts her hand on his shoulder. “Do you know how this is going to happen?”

“I get the gist of it. How are you handling all this?”

Really she should be the one asking him that, considering he’s about to be traded like an animal. 

“As well as expected I suppose. I just feel...uneasy.”

“It’s my father, he makes everyone feel like that.” Neal taps the table nervously. 

“How are  _ you _ handling this?” She sits down across from him. 

“I hoped I’d never have to deal with him again, but I had always prepared myself for this moment.” 

“Excuse me for a second, I have to make a call.” She steps out into the deserted hallway, pulling out her phone. “Killian. We are getting ready to make the trade for you. Neal said something to me. He said that he had prepared himself for this moment since he ran away. I know it’s not the same thing, but I didn’t prepare myself for losing you. I’ll be lost if I don’t get you back, so please stay alive.”

Her heart pounds so hard, she can feel it in her throat as the time to go to the drop off location approaches. 

Stepping back into the room, she explains to Neal, “David is going to meet us at the site. If he comes with us, Gold might think it was suspicious. He’ll be on our side with a team and there’ll be another team on the boat yard side. We’ll also have a few people on the bridge near where you’ll be placed.”

She leads Neal out into the lobby, grabbing the keys to the car they put a tracking device on in case something happens. Emma insisted they didn’t need it, but David pulled rank on her. Still, she’s driving the car anyway. The pair heads out into the parking lot and Emma shakily climbs into the driver’s side, gripping the wheel tightly. Neal slips into the passenger side, propping his foot up on the side pocket.

“It’ll be okay. Don’t worry.” She’s not sure if she’s saying that for her benefit or his. 

The roads are quiet this late at night, only a few people daring to be out this late on a weekday. She hopes that means there won’t be many people on the bridge tonight. If there aren’t, it’ll be easier to track Gold and get Neal back. It also means that it’ll be quicker to find Killian once they have his location. However, that goes both ways, so if Gold figures out it’s a setup, it’ll be impossible to find Killian before Gold gets back to him. 

She was right: the bridge is almost deserted. She pulls off the road right before the ramp up starts. “You’re sure you’re okay with this plan?” She takes a breath before going on, “We won’t do it unless you are one-hundred percent down with it.” 

“Yes. Let’s do it and get your friend back.” He opens the door and cautiously steps out, examining the area. 

Then her phone rings. Her stomach sinks. It has to be Gold, calling to announce that he’s gone back on their deal. She answers without looking at the caller ID.

“Emma, we found him. We found Killian.”

She calls Neal back to the car and steps on the gas pedal before the door is even closed, racing to the address David gave her before she hung up. 

They found him with two hours and thirty-three minutes left.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the pain I'm about to inflict on you. Trigger warning for throwing up (not descriptive), so skip to the end of the chapter and I'll summarize it for you. Also, sorry for the shorter chapter.

His head hurts and he’s dizzy, which isn’t really anything new, but it’s increased tenfold since Gold left. He’s not sure specifically how long he’s been down here, just that it’s been longer than two hours, but shorter than a day. 

Killian stands up from his position on the floor and paces over to the opposite side, where he swipes a single line into the dirt and dust onto the floor under the air filter vent. He started counting seconds to keep track of the time as best as he can. Every half hour he puts a small line on the floor. From his lines, he started it roughly two hours ago. It gives him something to do and distracts him from his growing nausea. It’s odd because he hardly ever gets sick, but he chalks it up to the adrenaline of the situation. 

The air filter kicks on again. At least he has somewhat fresh air. He inhales deeply and then starts coughing. He forgot that it always shoots out a ton of dust whenever it’s blowing. He moves back to the other side of the small room, staggering as a wave of nausea washes over him. He wishes he hadn’t eaten so much earlier. The thought of food and eating is too much for him and he gets sick. Maybe this is what Gold meant by “more fun for him,” but then how could he know he’d be sick. Unless… 

Killian looks to the vent and thinks back to Emma’s file on Gold. Didn’t she say he liked to poison people? If only he could remember what kind. He knows she mentioned it at some point, but his brain is too foggy to function. 

_ She had been sitting on his couch all day, which had only slightly annoyed him because he couldn’t watch his favorite show until she was done with whatever she was researching today, but the moment he saw her intense look and the way her hair fell over her shoulder, he forgave her. He had decided to make dinner. That’s right. He had made stuffed mushrooms.  _

_ “I’d really prefer not to eat those right now.”  _

_ He sat the pan down and gave her a quizzical look. _

_ “David emailed me and said that one of Gold’s victims turned up at a hospital a few days ago, with severe kidney and liver failure from amatoxin poisoning. I didn’t know what that was, so I looked it up. Apparently it’s the toxin in poisonous mushrooms. Headache, dizziness, nausea, shortness of breath, frequent urination, and back pain. That’s when your kidneys and liver begin to shut down and once you get to that stage, there’s no saving you. Really you die from dehydration-” _

_ And at that point he had focused in on the way her eyebrows knit together and the way she tucked her hair behind her ears.  _

_ He ended up throwing out the mushrooms and ordering take out. _

So he’s being poisoned - probably the dust coming out of the vent. He thinks over his symptoms. Headache, dizziness, nausea. It’s only a matter of time before he begins experiencing the other ones. There isn’t anything he can do to stop it, but he might be able to slow it down. He unbuttons his shirt, one he doesn’t remember putting on. In fact, he doesn’t remember putting clothes on at all, and yet he’s wearing one of his best shirts and nice pants. He supposes it’s for the best. If they don’t get to him in time, he’ll at least be wearing nice clothes. 

He takes off his button down, leaving him only in the dark blue t-shirt underneath, and attempts to tuck it into the slots in the vent. It’s not extremely effective, but when the filter starts blowing, it blocks most of the spores. Just the effort required to tuck the shirt in has him out of breath. He slumps back against the wall and throws up again. Gold really has a sick sense of humor. 

He’s not sure whether sleeping will help or hurt him, but all he wants to do right now is close his eyes and get a break from his relentless pain. The cool cement floor feels amazing against his hot skin and he closes his eyes, savoring the temporary relief he gets. 

 

~o~

 

It was definitely a bad idea to fall asleep. He slept through the headache and dizziness phase, but now even opening his eyes cause him to throw up. His bladder feels like it’s about to burst, just adding another level of uncomfort to this whole situation. He pants, taking shallow wheezing breaths as he stands up and relieves himself in the corner. He almost wishes Emma won’t see him like this. It’ll definitely shatter any illusions she has of him. There’s no way in hell he’ll ever get her to like him after this. He chuckles softly, but it quickly dissipates into gasps for air. He tries to pace - he has all this built up energy - but it’s impossible with his lungs aching the way they do. It hurts. He hurts. 

He almost wishes Emma won’t find him. 

“You don’t actually want that, little brother.” 

Killian looks up to see his older brother standing over him.

“Younger brother,” he corrects. His voice comes out as a hushed whisper. “You’re not actually here.”

“No, but I am in your head.” Liam crouches down next to Killian. “And I know you don’t want to die here. What fun would that be?”

Killian spins his brother’s ring on his finger. “You’re not here. It’s just the dehydration.” He’s not sure whether he said that out loud or in his head. 

“Either way, you don’t seem glad to see me.” 

“Why would I? It means I’m dying, and I don’t want to die.” He sits up.

“See? I told you, you don’t.” Liam says smugly. 

“Aye, fine, you were right.” Killian starts crawling to the steps leading to the door in the ceiling. 

“Remember that one time we got locked in the basement? We got out by slipping a shoelace through the crack in the door and flipped up the lock.” Liam follows behind him.

“I was just thinking about that.” He reaches the base of the steps and rests, trying to catch his breath.

“And remember that time you told me you were going to bring a girl home for Christmas, and you never did? Why is that?”

“Because our relationship never evolved to anything more than friends with limited benefits. I figured I wouldn’t let you get attached to her if something happened.”

Liam raises an eyebrow and Killian is reminded that that reaction runs in the family.

“Fine, I promise if I ever get out of here I’ll invite her to England for Christmas.” He slowly starts up the stairs. “Not like you’d know if I didn’t,” he mumbles. 

“What was that? Speak up brother. No one likes a mumbler.”

“Very funny.” He collapses against the top step and raises his voice as much as he can, “I said, you won't know I made a promise because you’re all the way in England and not actually here with me!”

Liam sits down next to him. “You don’t have a shoelace.”

“I know that. I wouldn’t even have the energy to use it if I did.”

“Remember when-” Liam moves to playfully shove Killian.

“I don’t want to talk now, Liam.” Killian cuts him off, running his hand through his hair. “I just want to sleep.”

“If you do that, you might not wake up.” Liam points out gravely.

“I have a little while longer. My back isn’t hurting yet.” He winces as the filter starts up.

“What?” Liam looks over at him.

“I don’t know.” His brain is fogging up again. “Wake me in an hour.”

“But I’m not really here.”  
  
“I know.” Killian blinks and Liam fades from view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Killian is starting to feel sick, which he thinks is weird because he never gets sick. He then figures out that Gold is poisoning him through the vent with spores from mushrooms that produce amatoxin. Symptoms include headache, nausea, dizziness, shortness of breath, frequent urination, back pain, and then kidney failure. He remembers when Emma told him about amatoxin and takes off his shirt to try and block some of the spores, but it's too late. That's when he starts hallucinating Liam from dehydration (don't worry Liam isn't dead in this au). They talk about ways to escape, but neither of them can think of anything. Liam then complains about how he never brought Emma over to London for Christmas, like he promised, and Killian promises again that he will. At that point Killian has used all his energy crawling up the stairs and closes his eyes. Liam begs him not to (because death) but Killian just tells him to wake him up in an hour.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! This is the last 'chapter' chapter. I'm still debating on whether to do an epilogue (which means it'll be out slower than normal if I do it) I've gotten such great feedback from this story and just wanted to thank everyone who's read it, enjoyed it, and responded to it. I love you all!

The abandoned building is only ten minutes away from her apartment, on the outskirts of an old development. Ten minutes. In fact, she’s actually been there before, outside it anyway. There’s a huge fence around the building with barbed wire on top because it was the scene of an unsolved murder. The person only lived there for about a two weeks, but when they moved, the next buyer found dead bodies in the house. 

She makes it to the building and jumps out of the car, sprinting full-speed to David. 

“Where is he?” she pants out. 

“He’s in the fallout shelter in the yard.” David points and she takes off. “Emma, wait!” he calls after her. “We have Gold in custody.”

“Yeah, sure,” she says, not able to focus on anything that isn’t Killian. She rushes around back, getting there just in time to see the team unlock the fallout shelter door and flings it open. The leader shines a flashlight down into the inky blackness. Emma flies past them as soon as she spots Killian slumped against the steps. The stench of the last ten hours washes over her, but she doesn’t care. 

She drops to her knees and cradles him. “Killian, wake up,” she whispers.

“Liam? Has it been an hour?” He cracks open his bloodshot eyes, not really seeing anything.

“Killian, Killy, it’s me,” she chokes out with a sob.

“...Emma?” His eyes open fully. 

Medical personnel try to pull Emma away from Killian to get him onto a stretcher, but he grips her arm, not allowing her to stand up. He’s not going to let her go that easily. 

“You decided to join the party,” he jokes hoarsely. 

She lets out another sob and a small laugh of relief. “We have to get you to the hospital. You might have been poisoned.”

At Emma’s prompting, he lets the med team lift him onto a stretcher and wheel him around to the front of the property and into an ambulance. She squeezes his limp hand the whole time. It’s comforting to feel him, however disconcerting this entire thing is. 

She takes a deep breath, gently brushing the hair away from his eyes, and then starts. “Killian, I have-” but stops as David appears in front of the ambulance doors. She may be desperate to tell him the truth, but she’s not going to do it in front of David.

“We have Gold in custody, Mr. Jones. You won’t have to worry about him, he had some of your things, so I’ll be by at some point to drop them off.” He places a hand on the ambulance door.

“And Milah? Was she-” He stops talking as an EMT interrupts him and injects something into his IV. 

“This’ll let you sleep while we flush your body of the toxin.”

Emma drops his hand. She forgot about Milah. Of course he’d be worried about his girlfriend. Of course she’d be the first person he’d want to see. He’d probably feel better if she were here. She takes a step back, hurt evident on her face for the few milliseconds before Killian closes his eyes and she carefully schools it into a neutral mask. No matter how difficult this will be for her, she’ll be there for Killian until Milah comes. 

She drops down onto the padded bench and braces herself as the ambulance speeds to the hospital. Resting her head in her hands, she takes the moments necessary to lock her feelings away. She was ready for this huge speech, professing her love to him, but she never thought about his reaction. She never thought about Milah, or how her words would affect their relationship. Never once had the thought crossed her mind during the time she was carefully crafting what to say that he might not feel the same way. She essentially told him everything already in her voicemail, but that was really only a practice round. She forgot until now about the voicemails she left. The ones she doesn’t want him to know about now. He obviously doesn’t have it, and if she were Gold, she would’ve chucked it the second she got it. She sighs slightly. One less thing to worry about. 

The ambulance arrives at Mass Gen hospital rather quickly, and the staff rushes Killian out of the ambulance and into a private room, Emma trailing behind. They’re all shouting and machines are beeping and it looks urgent, but she has no clue what’s happening. 

A nurse stops her right outside Killian’s door. “I’m going to ask that you stay out here until the doctors have examined him. We don’t really like girlfriends in there when patients crash.”

She feels like she could burst from indignation at being blocked from his room, but it quickly dissipates. She has no energy to fight them, and no energy to correct them. No energy to watch Killian die right in front of her.

“I’ll let you know when you can go in, but it might be best if you went home and got some sleep. He’ll be out for a while.”

She’s sick and tired of being told to go home and sleep. All she wants to do is make sure Killian is safe. She paces outside until the nurse comes back and tells her she can go in. 

Killian is asleep again, which she expected, so she sits down in the chair across from him. Wires and tubes are connected to him everywhere, and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t terrified.

David wakes her up at ten, with coffee and a change of clothes. “Here. Elsa went to your apartment and got you some clothes, then dropped them off on her way to work. Go change and get some breakfast. I’ll wait here.” 

She stands up and stretches, letting David take her seat. She downs the coffee in two minutes and changes quickly. Elsa brought her some jeans and a baggy long sleeve t-shirt since all her summer clothes are still at Killian’s apartment, something she should really fix before he gets back.

The cafeteria is a long way from his room. It takes a half hour to get to, but mainly because she keeps getting lost while wandering around. It gives her time to think, though. It gives her the time she needs to push her feelings down, so when she returns two hours later, she has somewhat of a smile on her face. 

Killian is carefully propped up in a sitting position, head facing the window away from her. He turns when he hears her enter. She hangs back in the doorway, hands folded in front of her. 

“You’re awake,” she comments quietly, not quite sure whether he’ll be mad at her for what he went through or welcoming for saving him from it in the end. 

“Swan,” he says dryly. It’s hard to tell if it’s because he’s dehydrated or angry.

“I’m sorry.” She crosses to his side and hesitantly placing her hand on top of his. “We have someone trying to track down Milah.” 

“So you know-” 

“Yeah. It’s okay,” she cuts him off. “You don’t have to speak. You’ve been through a lot.”

“Emma-”

“We can talk later. Sleep now. I’ll stay if you want,” she cuts him off again.

He nods once and she pulls the chair up to the side of his bed, holding his hand in both of her’s as he falls asleep almost instantly. 

All he does for the next few days is sleep it seems, only waking up when Emma is out of the room. Except for the one time he woke up to correct her about Milah was working with Gold before promptly falling back asleep. It’s ironic really, that she’s always out of the room, or maybe she’s subconsciously doing it on purpose. It’s better that way no matter how it’s happening. Neither of them have to talk about what happened or how they feel. 

She asks David to drive him back to their apartment complex when he’s discharged. A twenty minute drive in silence is more than she can handle. Instead, she cleans the blood out of Killian’s shower and throws away the empty syringe on the bathroom floor. She washes the clothes thrown about his living room and the sheets from his bed. She loads and starts the dishwasher and dumps out what remains in the open wine bottle on the counter. The busy work has somehow managed to calm her nerves about being conscious in the same room as Killian for more than a few minutes. 

Killian opens the door slowly and she’s just standing there in the middle of his apartment with old clothes on and hair tied back. Her eyes are tearing up and so are his, and then she’s standing in front of him.

Everything is  _ him _ . Everything is  _ her _ . The way he reaches for her hand and pulls it to his chest. The way she spreads her fingers over his chest, feeling his heartbeat. The way he’s looking at her lips and the way she’s desperately trying to avoid looking at his. The way he reaches up and brushes a stray hair away from her face and rests his fingers on the side of her cheek. The way she can’t resist sliding the hand on his chest to the nape of his neck and how her fingers curl into his hair. Then they’re kissing, and it’s the best thing that’s happened all week. 

It’s not a gentle kiss, but she didn’t expect it to be. It’s rushed and frenzied and unstable. He threads his hand into her ponytail, wrapping his free arm around her waist to pull her close. She throws her arms around his neck and lets herself relax into him. He sucks her bottom lip into his mouth and lets out a sigh. 

She was waiting for this - waiting for the moment the dam would burst. He was waiting for the moment she would let him in. 

They breathe each other in one last time before separating. She rests her head on his chest, afraid to look him in the eyes. He rests his chin on the top of her head. 

“Bloody hell, love. I didn’t know I was missing so much.”

She giggles and rises up on her toes slightly to kiss his jaw. They might not have forever, but they have this moment and everything is right. 

“I heard your voicemail.” He studies her face, watching and gauging her reaction.

She steps away from him, on edge and ready to run if she has to. That kiss was either goodbye or hello. She hopes with every inch of her body that it was a hello. 

“My Swan, my Emma. You’re my everything.” There aren’t words to describe how he feels about her. 

She doesn’t have words either. As always, when she doesn’t have words to speak how she feels, she relies on action.

A tear slips from her eye as she closes the gap between them once again. This time, the kiss is soft, like rose petals, and she feels like she could float away from happiness; happiness that he’s alive; happiness at his feelings for her. 

“Emma Swan, my love,” he breathes.  
  
“Killian.” Her smile could outshine the sun.


	9. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally finished this *sigh of relief* I highly /HIGHLY/ suggest listening to Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic by Sleeping at Last while you read for your ultimate viewing pleasure.

Winter in London is not at all what Emma expected. She expected a chilly damp mess, not a light dusting of snow over everything, and fairy lights hung up everywhere. It’s gorgeous. The jet lag isn’t as bad as she thought it would be, due to her already messed up sleep schedule. She’s actually dealing with it better than Killian is, much to his dismay and Liam’s amusement.They got in Thursday evening and Killian spent the majority of Friday sleeping, leaving Emma awake by herself in Liam’s house all day.  

She picks up her cup of tea from the table as she moves to the chair by the window to watch the tiny snowflakes dance across the sky. Tucking her legs under her, she holds her mug close to her chest, warming her hands with it. 

“Emma, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about my brother.” Liam appears out of thin air, or at least that’s what it seems like. 

Liam is like Killian. He gets up at an ungodly hour every day but Sunday, and runs to the gym, where he exercises for a few hours. That means that until he gets back at eight, the house is completely quiet.

She looks to the nearest clock. “You weren’t supposed to be back for another half hour or so.” 

“Are you disappointed to spend time with your boyfriend’s brother, or simply wanting to avoid this conversation?” He goes into the kitchen and pours himself a cup of tea and then returns, sitting opposite Emma. 

“I just like the quiet time. I don’t get much of that at home.” A fuzzy feeling shoots through her. Home now means the apartment she shares with Killian. All the back and forth between their two apartments was starting to get tiring and the double rent was a lot, so they took their cue from Mrs. Worthington, who would shout that they just needed to ‘take the plunge already’ every time she passed one of them in the hall. 

Liam smiles gently. “I understand that. My brother seems very smitten with you.”

Emma quickly looks down at her hands, smiling, a bright blush spreading across her face. “Yes, I think so.” 

“I think he thinks you’re the one.” His tone changes from gentle, to wary. “I need to know you think the same. From what he’s told me about you, I think you’re a flight risk and I can’t let you hurt my brother if one day you decide this is moving too fast and you take off. Don’t misunderstand. I love you as much as my brother does, and I don’t doubt you love him very much as well. I need to make sure you’re on the same page as he is.”

Her smile slips from her face. In the six months that they’ve been dating the thought definitely crossed her mind, that they’re moving too fast, but each time she was ready to pack up and run for the hills, she remembered the look he gets whenever he wakes up next to her. The same look he gives her every time she walks in the door, or tells her he loves her. It’s the same look she has whenever he reaches for her hand, or gets up early to make breakfast for him. There’s no way she could hurt him in that way, hurt herself that way because he’s made her better and without him, she wouldn’t be the same. 

“What are you two talking about?” Killian enters the living room.

There’s that smile she was talking about.

“The sleeping beauty wakes,” Liam teases. 

Emma takes a deep breath and stands, nodding once solemnly to Liam, and crosses to Killian, a matching smile now on her face. “We were just talking about how you two are so similar, both very perceptive.” She wraps her arms around him. 

He kisses the top of her head. “I’m glad you two are getting along. I figured we’d get our sight seeing out of the way on day one.”

Emma glares at him.

“Okay, fine. Day two!” He admits. “I’ve planned it all out already, so you don’t have to worry about any of that. Don’t worry, no boring museums. I thought we could see the changing of the guards at 11:30, see Big Ben, the Tower of London and London bridge, Hyde park, and then end with a nighttime ride on the London Eye.”

“Sounds great!” She steps back and pats his chest. “You should probably change out of your pajamas if we are going to go anywhere.” 

He rushes back to the bedroom, in a hurry to show Emma around. 

There’s a few moments with Emma standing in front of the hallway, looking after Killian before Liam comes up behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder.“You understand me then?”  

She pauses, breathing in deeply. “Yes. I do.” 

Then Killian is running, rather hopping as he tries to pull on his socks, down the hallway towards them. He grabs her hand as soon as he gets his socks on and pulls her towards the door, so they can put their shoes and jackets on. 

“Liam, do you want to come with?” Emma asks last minute.

“No, thanks. I’ve lived here long enough that the sights are boring. Besides, it’ll be better if it’s just you and Killian.” Liam waves to them as Killian pulls her out the door. 

The guards at the palace are exactly like everyone says; completely stern and unbreakable. Kind of like Emma, a fact Killian points out several times. She stares at the people doing funny things, trying to make them laugh, and she thinks it’s completely ridiculous. Instead, she crosses her arms and stares a guard down, Killian laughing at the pair of them the whole time. 

Big Ben and the London Tower are so-so, she’s never been one for historical sightseeing. So far Hyde park is her favorite, but they haven’t been on the London Eye yet. She loves the carnival type games and ice skating rink, which Killian promised to take her to another time, but they have to get to the Eye now. 

The line is long, but not anything she didn’t expect. 

“I assure you, love, the line will be worth the flight.” He guides her forward with a hand pressed to her lower back. “It’s a half hour rotation with a 360 degree view of London, and we don’t need to buy the guide.” He taps his head. “It’s all up here.”

They’re almost at the front now as the next capsule slowly crawls up to the platform and the usher motions for the five people in front of them into it. Emma is about to step in when Killian stops her.

“Hold on. We have the next one.” 

She furrows her brow, but steps back none the less. 

“I bought tickets for a private capsule.” He kisses her cheek and wraps his arm around her waist. 

She likes the way it feels to have him next to her. To be honest, it doesn’t feel any different than it did before physically, except now, mentally, she can relax and not worry about messing up what they have. She likes how he’ll press close enough to her that she can feel his heart beating in time with hers against her back. She likes how his hand is always there for her to take.

The London Eye is possibly the slowest moving thing ever because it feels like they’ve been standing at the front for hours, and waiting in line for ages, even though she knows it hasn’t been more than fifteen minutes at the front. She bounces excitedly as their capsule approaches, and Killian pulls her forward with a tug on her hand when she hasn’t moved any. 

The capsule is bigger than she thought it would be. When Killian said it could hold up to twenty-five people, she didn’t realize how big it would have to be to do that. 

“At the top of the flight, you can see twenty-four miles in every direction. It’s a spectacular view. Especially with all the holiday lights up.” Killian walks around the area, watching all of London shrink around them. 

It’s a few minutes to the top when Emma notices Killian has gotten all fidgety and is pacing somewhat. She walks to the other side of the capsule to where he finally stopped. 

“Here’s the best spot,” he says quietly. 

He’s right. They’re looking down the River Thames and the way the lights bounce off of it is magical. The lights themselves are just tiny dots on the ground, but there are thousands of them flickering back at her. They can’t see very far because it’s started to snow again, but it only adds another layer of enchantment to their trip. 

She leans her head on his shoulder. “You’re right. It’s gorgeous up here, although I wouldn’t have minded sharing this carriage with other people.”

“Private ones are far more intimate for things like this.” He drops to one knee. “Emma, I’ve been thinking about how to ask you this since we booked our flight last month. There’s no way for me to find the words that describe how I feel about you. You are the best thing to ever happened to me, the only thing I want every second of every day, and the only thing I’ll need in all my years to come. You keep me sane, and alive, and I fall more and more in love with you every day. Emma Swan-” he pauses to steady his nerves, “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

A thousand and one things are running through her mind. This is the man she’s lived next to and with for the majority of her adult life. The man she was worried about scaring away for the first few months they were friends. This man she was afraid would leave if she so much as moved the wrong way. This is the man who’s proved her wrong in everything. He loves her more than she loves herself. She has no doubts about that because she never figured she’d get a proposal, or at least not from someone she truly loved. 

She grabs his shirt and pulls him to standing, kissing him senseless as her answer. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the ring box, breaking from their kiss with a small protest from Emma. 

“Is that a yes?” He’s already opening up the small black box and taking out the ring, slipping it onto her finger.

“Yes. Yes, Killian. Yes,” she breathes out.


	10. A Prologue of Sorts (about a year after they first met)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don't follow me on tumblr *hint hint* madquerade, then you missed this little tidbit. "Requested by shady-swan-jones: could you write something fluffy in the air of hope universe before the gold case? like the two of them doing something domestic + hugs?" This is before they started getting really comfortable with each other and was probably the turning point in their relationship.

She hasn’t done laundry in weeks. It’s not really something she’s had a problem with before, but for the last few months she’s barely had enough energy to drag herself to the shower, let alone sort, wash, and dry her clothes. She’s actually gone out of her way to buy more underwear, which really spent more energy than washing her old ones would have. 

Emma carries her large, overflowing, laundry basket down the stairs to the basement. She pushes open the door with her back, only to turn around and see Killian sitting on one of the dryers not currently being used, book in hand, waiting for one of his loads to be done. He’s the last person she wants to see right now. She doesn’t want to have to deal with his suggestive comments about her bras and panties, or some snarky remark about how she hasn’t done her laundry in ages, but she’s down here and doesn’t want to come back later. 

“Swan!” he says cheerfully from his perch. “Fancy meeting you down here in the laundry room.” He sets his book to the side.

“Surprise, surprise, we both do laundry on Tuesday nights,” she says under her breath. She starts tossing clothing into the washer. 

“You aren’t going to sort those?” 

She can hear the question in his voice. 

Shrugging, she answers him. “I don’t have the energy right now. This criminal has been hard to track down and I haven’t gotten a good night sleep in weeks.” In fact, she could fall asleep right now and it’s only seven o’clock. She suspects it’s more than just being tired that’s zapped her though.

Everyone around her is in a relationship. Her best friend Ruby is shockingly dating someone steady, while Elsa just got engaged to her long time boyfriend. It feels like she’s being left behind in the dust romantically. Normally that wouldn’t bother her, but she’s given up trying to suppress how she actually feels for a change. She isn’t sure how much she likes it. 

“If I’m being honest, I’m kind of sick of all the couple things happening around me.” She hesitates before continuing. “I- I want something like that for myself. I’ve never been in a healthy relationship before, and I just want to know what it feels like.” She slumps a little, and then she need to get out. She just told her neighbor, someone she’s only really known for a year or two something that she never even told her best friend. “I forgot my soap.” She runs out of the room, desperately avoiding eye contact with Killian. She can just imagine him sitting there with a look of pity on his face, something she does not need.

She runs up to her apartment, panting as she slams the door. What was she thinking? She can’t go back down there now. She can’t face him after revealing herself like that. She sighs. Her clothes are down there. They’ll just have to stay down there for another hour or so while he finishes up his clothes. Meanwhile she can take a nap. 

-

She wakes up to darkness. Her room is completely dark, with not an inch of light shining in from the windows. Odd when it’s only eight at night. Normally the street lights would be on or something. She glances to her clock. Four a.m. flashes back at her weakly. How did she sleep that late? She checks her phone. She remembers setting an alarm. It should’ve gone off. Turns out she just typed 8.00 into the calculator and fell asleep. Figures. Her laundry.

She sits straight up and rushes to her door, tripping over something set just outside it in the doorway. It’s her laundry basket, and it’s filled with her clean, folded clothes, her underwear and panties hidden underneath layers of shirts and pants in case someone walked past and saw them. A note has been laid neatly on top of it all.

_Swan,_

_I did your laundry for you. I even separated it first since you lacked the energy to do so. I hope you feel better. Remember, someone is out there looking and longing for you. They could be right around the corner, so keep your chin up._

_Killian_

It’s the sweetest thing she’s ever gotten, and she isn’t sure if it’s because of sleep deprivation or the emptiness she’s feeling, but she might cry, which doesn’t happen often. 

It’s a long shot he’ll be up, but she has to try knocking anyway and to her surprise, he opens the door dressed in nothing but sweatpants. 

“By the looks of it, you wouldn’t be able to tell you just did your laundry.” She chuckles a little and then flings herself at him, wrapping her arms around his waist in a huge hug. 

She’s acutely aware of his hands on her lower back, but instead of feeling scared, she feels safe.


End file.
